Chasing the Lantern (The Dawnhawk Trilogy, Book One)

by Jonathon Burgess

  More than that, he saw the ship. The Dawnhawk. He had spent countless hours cleaning it, navigating it, and making sure the crew wouldn't be an embarrassment to it. It's my ship, far more than hers.

  He was surprised to realize that his decision was already made. It had been for days. Very well, then. If he was going to stage a coup, he had to do it the right way. First he needed to sound out the crew, find who would back him. There were optimum choices here. Once a specific few were convinced, the others would fall in line. Though it had never been done before on this ship, calling a Crewman's Vote was a time honored tradition.

  Mordecai thought for a moment, then stalked back to the ship's helm. Konrad stood there, alone as usual, glowering at the city beyond the railings. The aetherite nodded to Mordecai but said nothing. Unusually, he seemed sensitive to Mordecai's mood. The argument with Natasha hadn't happened long ago.

  "How is our course?" he asked the navigator, voice curt.

  "Steady as she goes," replied Konrad. "We're still partway down in the valley, even up here. No crosswinds to toss us all around. We can hold here awhile, if you want."

  Softly, softly. "What I want is unimportant," said Mordecai. "Natasha wants us here, to keep tabs on her husband and his poxy crew." He let a little of his bitterness seep into his voice, and watched the aetherite from out of the corner of his eye. He was gratified to see the other man scowl.

  "It's madness," said Konrad bluntly. "We shouldn't be here. This place isn't ... isn't meant for us." He turned to growl into his shoulder at the daemon riding there. "No, I don't care how comfortable it feels to you." Konrad looked back at Mordecai. "We can't stay here."

  Excellent, thought Mordecai. Konrad had been his first choice for two reasons. As an aetherite, the rest of the crew walked softly around him. Also, because of that, the man wasn't usually afraid to speak his mind.

  Mordecai shrugged, looking pained. He let a bit of worry seep into his voice. "I don't have any say in that. As long as Natasha is captain, what she says, goes." He gazed up the deck, where she was giving orders at the bow. "If we keep to this course, though, I don't think we're all going to make it out alive."

  Konrad scowled. "We should call a Vote. That'll make her look around."

  Better than I could have asked for. The aetherite was more on edge than he had believed. Still, he had to go carefully.

  Mordecai turned a disbelieving stare at the man. Konrad, for his part, looked embarrassed, and suddenly a little worried. Mordecai looked frankly at him for a long moment, then cast his gaze back up the deck. "I think you might be right," he said, at last.

  The other man visibly relaxed. "Others are unhappy," said Konrad, as if Mordecai was unaware. "Reaver Jane, the Wiley Brothers, and that Farrel kid, among others. And it's not as if we'd be displacing her. Just...airing our grievances, right? That'll make her turn us around, leave this place."

  Actually, it'll make her more obstinate, and there'd be blood all over the decks to boot. Mordecai nodded, keeping his thoughts hidden. "Say nothing. I will take care of it."

  He moved down belowdecks. Fortunately, almost everyone was up above. He found Reaver Jane in the cargo with another hand, not counting the loot, but hauling up a powder keg they'd kept from the Queen.

  She frowned at Mordecai's approach. "No need to chap my arse," she said. "Just found the thing. I'll be getting it up to her queenship shortly."

  Mordecai kept his face impassive. The other pirate was Hans Droicker, a simple man with brutish tastes, but no real connections amongst the rest of the crew. Reaver Jane had been there since the beginning, though, and everyone knew she was steadfast and loyal. For a pirate, at least.

  "Something on your mind, Jane?" he asked her.

  The piratess frowned. She bent back to the keg to pick it up. Her short red ponytail fell over her shoulder, hiding her face. "S'nothing, sir," she said.

  Mordecai put his boot on the small keg. "It doesn't look like 'nothing,' Jane. Out with it."

  She looked up at Mordecai with a glower. Taking his tone for a challenge, she stood up straight and faced him. "Fine then. I don't like this. And you can take that straight to her ladyship. She wants to drop a lit keg on those lizard-devils outside...what's next? Assaulting them outright? And for what?" She gestured at the rest of the hold. "We've already got the treasure! We've already got our ship back!" Reaver Jane shook her head. "I'll do as ordered. I'm no scrub. But I think this is madness. Someone needs to make her sit up and notice, but all she can see is Fengel down in the city below. And I don't care if you tell her that, sir."

  Mordecai smiled wryly. "You know very well that I recently did just that." He pulled back his boot and turned for the stair up from the hold. "You should know that Konrad intends to call a Crewman's Vote. He doesn't really mean it, but he thinks that's what it'll take to make Natasha see the light." He glanced back to see Jane and Hans staring at him in surprise. "And I have no intention of stopping him," he said. Then he turned and climbed back up the stair.

  And so he moved down his list. He sought out the Wiley twins, Berringer, Lazy Tom, and others with pull among the crew. All had grievances of some sort; pirates always did. But, perhaps surprisingly, all were still mostly loyal. They pounced on the idea of a Crewman's Vote when he brought it up. Some meant it, most just wanted their captain to take notice. Mordecai kept himself strictly impassive, seemingly impartial. He let them know that he was irritated as well, and would let the Vote happen, but not what he thought of it. Lastly, he sought out Guye Farrel.

  The beleaguered crewman was amidships, coiling rope. He mumbled and muttered in irritation to himself, staying as much under the shadow of the gas-bag as he could. Mordecai moved quietly up, and then waited to be noticed.

  Farrel paused when he caught a glimpse of the first mate, then, slowly, he stood, ready and at attention. Mordecai noted the barely concealed hate that the man had for him. He would have been irritated not to see it; he'd worked hard to put it there, after all.

  "Sir?" asked Farrel.

  Mordecai let a bit of unaccustomed warmth into his voice. "This voyage hasn't been what you'd thought it would be, has it Farrel?"

  The other man looked at him warily. Farrel seemed uncertain how to answer. "No," he said after a moment.

  Mordecai turned aside. He paced slowly around the pirate. "No, it hasn't, has it? I know better. But I can imagine what you thought when you approached Natasha. Let me see." He held up his hands theatrically. "A gorgeous and ruthless pirate captain, heir to Pirate King himself. And she was no mere ocean-going scallywag at that, but a sky-pirate, mistress of one of the wondrous Brotherhood airships. You, being a young and dashing man, capable with both pistol and blade, would make an excellent addition to her crew. From there you would carve yourself glory and renown, win the heart of the gorgeous pirate princess, and even take up the role of captain once all saw your able skill and expertise. Yes?"

  Farrel looked sullen, and did not reply.

  "But, obviously, you know now that real life doesn't work like a penny paper. I imagine that you started to realize that the moment she shot you." He stopped, faced Farrel, and met his gaze. "Answer me."

  "Yes," said the pirate, voice small.

  "Since then, you've been beaten, stabbed, bruised, bit, bashed, and treated to the same drudgery that occurs on an ocean-going ship, just at a different altitude. And now, because your gorgeous captain is crazy, you're going to meet some improbable doom in some alien city, trapped on a jungle continent where you couldn't hope to survive."

  Farrel nodded slowly.

  Mordecai stepped closer and leaned in. "Well. It appears I've got some good news for you. You can't have everything you wanted. But you can have a little bit of it, and maybe save your life in the process. Look there."

  Mordecai jerked his head back down near the helm. All the crew he'd spoken with were gathered near Konrad. They talked excitedly amongst themselves, working up their courage and nerve. It wouldn't be long before Natasha noti
ced.

  "You aren't alone. This whole trip has been one mess after another. The crew have decided to call a Crewman's Vote. You know what that is?"

  Farrel nodded, surprise clear on his marred face.

  "Though we disagree, I am loyal to my captain. I only inform you of all this because you have a right to know. Someone needs to bring the Vote to the captain, and none of that lot have the sand for it." He snorted. "Cowards. Still, if you want a better lot, and a bit of that glory you imagined, now's the time for it. Things don't work like that in real life, s'true, but sometimes they get close, you follow? Sometimes opportunities arise to lift you up, but only if you've got the gumption for it."

  Farrel was looking at the assembled crew. The mob was bustling now, and started forward in ones and twos. That seemed to be a sign, and soon the whole assemblage was moving up. It wasn't the whole crew, but a good chunk of it, twenty or so. Enough for the Vote to work.

  Mordecai stepped back, giving the pirate next to him a significant look.

  Farrel looked indecisive. Then he frowned fiercely. He threw down the rope he'd been coiling and stood up straight. As the first of the crew came close he turned and stalked up the deck with them at his back. The young man Mordecai saw back in Haventown marched up toward Natasha.

  Mordecai smiled. Perfect.

  The crew passed him by. Mordecai moved around their edge, staying close to the gunwales. He moved up where he could easily see the bow, and what was about to happen there.

  Natasha was alone at the bow railing. She peered down at the temple, not even noticing the approach of the crew. Once the assembled pirates came to a halt, she still didn't seem to notice.

  Guye Farrel stood at their lead. He stepped forward dramatically. "Captain," he said. "Your attention is required."

  Natasha straightened and turned around. "What now?" she asked, irritated. "What—?"

  The captain of the Dawnhawk fell silent as she saw the assembled pirates. "What is this?" she asked.

  "I speak for the crew," said Farrel. "We've had enough. Turn this ship back to Haventown, or we'll call a Crewman's Vote."

  The pirate princess stared at him. "You're not serious." She shook her head at the assemblage. "Enough tomfoolery. I've decided that we're going to send down a shore party—"

  An immediate cry rose up. "This is madness!" yelled someone at the back of the crowd. "We've already got the treasure, let's leave!"

  "Aye!" shouted another. "We've barely enough coal to make it home as it is."

  Konrad pushed to the front. "Captain," he said. "We are not meant to be in this city. There is something here, something powerful and hexed. We must go."

  "Oh, quiet, all of you," said Natasha. "The Governor's Lantern is worth a fortune by itself, and it's somewhere in the city below. I mean to have my cake and eat it too." She smiled. "Let Fengel do better than that."

  Farrel stepped defiantly forward. "No. No more, pirate princess. You've had your fun, had your play at captain. But you're not old Euron Blackheart, and never will be. We're calling a Vote."

  The mob quieted. Even Mordecai blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the fool to go that far.

  Natasha narrowed her eyes. In one smooth motion she dropped a hand to her cutlass, drew it, and struck. The steel of her blade sang out against the leather sheath before landing with a meaty thud. Farrel didn't even have time to scream. The greenhorn pirate fell to the deck, hands twitching up at the blade buried in his neck. Natasha hadn't decapitated him. Not quite.

  The pirate captain put her boot on his chest and yanked her blade free. "To have a Vote," she hissed, "you've got to have someone else who can replace me. Now get back to your posts before I—"

  The moment couldn't have been timed more perfectly. Farrel's murder shocked the crew. Not because they cared about him, or were surprised at his death; Mordecai had slain more than a few recalcitrant crewmen. But because Natasha was so obviously ignoring them all.

  "I volunteer," Mordecai said, stepping into the small space at the front of the bow. He turned and spoke out to the crowd. "I'll get us back to home port safely, with no more of this foolishness." The assembled crew stared at him in surprise. Mordecai was Natasha's right-hand-man, her loyal dog.

  "You treacherous snake," hissed Natasha. "You'd go this far?" She hefted her blade again.

  Quick as a flash Mordecai had his own sword in hand. "See how far she's gone? We have to do this. Back me, and I'll portion out her share among the rest of you when you're back in port."

  "I'll see you dead for this," Natasha snarled.

  The pirate captain raised her blade and came at him with a hacking blow. Mordecai parried it and stepped aside. The crowd pressed back to give them room.

  No need to drag this out. He needed to remind the crew that he was confident and capable. Short and brutal then.

  Mordecai stepped forward and lashed out. Natasha parried the blow returned it. Mordecai caught the blade with his own and then whirled down and around, binding her blade and then disarming her in a smooth motion. Natasha's sword went sailing over the edge of the rails.

  She stepped back, eyes wide. He held the tip of his sword to her throat. Natasha put her hands up, glaring daggers at him.

  "There," he said to the crew at large. "You see how she is. Unfit to lead. I call for a Crewmen's Vote! All displeased by the captaincy of Natasha Blackheart vote aye."

  A chorus of 'ayes' rang out. It was obvious to him that some didn't want to depose their captain. But they were carried along by the events, too caught up in the action.

  "I believe you are deposed," he said to Natasha.

  She glared at him. "I got my ship back from Fengel," she snarled. "I'll sure as sin get it back from you. I may have pushed them too far, but you'll only have them hoodwinked for so long—"

  "And all those in favor of my taking the captaincy, even temporarily, say 'aye!'"

  A number of the crew, no doubt motivated by the now-free share, called out in favor. Their voices spread as others took up the chant. Most voiced a little half-heartedly, but, seeing no better option, went with their crewmates. In moments, enough of the crew had affirmed the vote.

  "That's that then," said Captain Mordecai Wright. "First order of business: seize her."

  Two pirates came close and grabbed Natasha. She fought them, but they held her. "What shall be done with her, sir?" asked one.

  Mordecai sheathed his blade. "My first order: bind her well, then tie her to a rope. If she wants to go after her husband so badly, she can do just that. For my second order, you've all earned a reprieve. Bring up drink from the holds; we'll share a toast, and then put this repugnant place behind us!"

  The crew cheered and scurried off belowdecks. Others stood and watched while a long rope was tied to the bow with Natasha bound to one end of it. She spat and yelled and cursed them all, biting at those who came near her. Mordecai smiled in grim satisfaction as she was set over the gunwales and lowered down by three of the crew. He leaned over to watch with everyone else as she reached the top of the temple-manse where a mob of the lizard-creatures were waiting. Unfortunately, they did not kill her. Instead they cut her free and hauled her inside, still screaming epithets.

  Mordecai had the rope cut before the lizard-creatures could climb up, then he stalked down to the middle of the deck where overeager crewmen were hoisting up caskets of ale and rum from the stores belowdecks. Mugs were brought out and passed around expectantly. Mordecai took one small keg in hand and set it atop another. Then he drew his sword and stoved in the bung with his pommel. The crew cheered as he held it up, pouring it for the first man to shove his mug beneath the flowing liquor.

  "Let this be a celebration," he called out. "Let's mark this moment as the moment that we of the Dawnhawk became stronger, and more free. We of the Copper Isles are free men and women, who brook no tyranny. We—pfuagh. Goddess above...what is this?"

  The liquor flowed down over and into mugs, spilling onto the deck. It had a horrible, ca
ustic scent to it. Those with pewter or steel mugs jerked back, dropping them. The liquor inside was fizzing, eating at the bottoms. Mordecai tipped the cask back, kept from pouring it anymore.

  "Corsair's Cure-all, sir," said Reaver Jane. She looked glum and tired. "S'terrible stuff. Maybe something else?"

  Something fell at them from overhead the gas-bag overhead. It screamed at them as it fell, hellish red light shining down on the pirates. The men and women ducked and swore, dropping their mugs. Cure-all spilled out onto the deck, stinking horribly.

  The scryn banked at the last second, whipping the stinger of its tail out to catch someone across the face. The pirate screamed and fell. It whirled around, a smallish, runty creature, and came at them again. The pirates scattered, and Mordecai saw the thing coming straight for him. He didn't have time to draw a weapon, instead he held up the cask, blocking the whip-tail of the creature as it struck for his head. The wood of the cask resounded with a thump, cracking slightly.

  Mordecai threw it aside as the creature flew past. The cask rolled, dumping the liquid inside across the deck. He kicked it away to free up his footing, drew a pistol and took up a stance. He fired, smoke and thunder billowing out, but at the last second the creature jerked upward.

  Others had recovered from the surprise. Shouts rang out and weapons were drawn. The scryn, perhaps sensing its danger, disappeared over the starboard gunwales and did not rise again.

  Mordecai looked up at the gas-bag where the thing had come from. No more of the flying vermin could be seen, though up near the starboard ratline he did see a face, white-furred and simian, watching them.

  Blast, damnation, and other diverse curses. His triumphant morale-building speech had been ruined. Enough tomfoolery. I am captain now.

  "Enough of this," he shouted. "It was just one of those little monsters. Everyone back to your posts. We're putting this place behind us. Konrad! To the helm. Reaver Jane! Go tell the Mechanist about our change of heading, and make sure he's ready to help us make all speed. And could someone get up aloft and kill that damned ape?"